


Such Great Heights

by flannelfeelings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, An Asexual Person In a Sexual Situation, Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Castiel, Castiel-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Nobody actually has sex tho, Nsfw content, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, asexual!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/flannelfeelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when Dean gets upset, Castiel feels guilty that he cannot provide comfort in the way Dean is accustomed to.</p><p>Good thing his freckled, loving boyfriend will always reassure him that he loves Cas no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such Great Heights

**Author's Note:**

> little drabble about ace!Cas and his boyfriend Dean bc why aren't there more asexual characters???
> 
> -Cas' asexuality does not refer to or generalize all asexual people! Everyone is different :)
> 
> (title is from the song by Iron & Wine) 
> 
> Please enjoy! x

Castiel’s eyes shift suspiciously around the dark room. Gnawing on his lower lip, he rises to his feet, stumbling a little. He’s been sitting for a long time, curling into himself and trying to shrink into a less threatening shape. His bare feet press into the cold wooden floor, sending shivers dancing up his spine. Heart thudding erratically in his chest, he makes his way down the corridor. He feels like he’s walking the plank; each step bringing him closer and closer to his own demise. His breath quickens and he tries to stifle his anxiety by clamping his mouth shut and breathing evenly through his nose. His throat burns with unshed tears and apprehension. He reaches up and palms some sweat away from his hairline, trying to look somewhat presentable as he knocks once on the bedroom door. If there’s one thing that’s sure to cheer Dean up, it’s this. Cas can suck it up for an hour. He can do this.

“What?” Dean sounds angry.

Cas knows the uproar of rage that Dean had let loose earlier isn’t directed at Cas, not at all. He was angry at his best friend Gordon, the guy had done something stupid as usual. Dean really needed better friends. But either way, when Dean’s shouting and throwing knick knacks and furniture everywhere, it’s hard to really care who exactly he’s pissed at.

“May I come in?” Cas asks quietly, holding his breath as he waits for the answer.

There’s a pause, and then Dean permits his entrance with a gruff, “Yeah. Whatever.”

Shaking hand outstretched, Cas pushes the door open and enters the bedroom he shares with Dean. One of their snowglobes from last Christmas is shattered, sitting in a puddle of liquid on the floor beside the coffee table. The bedside stand is overturned, it’s contents spilled across the carpet. Dean sits up in bed, knees curled to his chest, jaw clenched so tight it looks almost painful. Cas stands at the foot of the bed, “It doesn’t look so bad.”

Dean glances around at the mess he’s made of the room, “I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, Cas nears the bed, sitting gingerly beside Dean. He inhales a slow, gulp of air and says, “I’d like to make you feel better.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow up with both interest and confusion, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but I don’t like to see you upset.”

There’s a moment of silent, the air between them thickening with potent nervousness and one-sided puzzlement. Cas can feel his pulse in his head now, throbbing painfully and lulling his fear into a dull ache that numbs the sensation of nausea that envelops him at the thought of his plan. He can do this. Cas reaches for the top button of his shirt, gradually undoing all of them and letting the fabric slide off his shoulders on to the floor. Dean’s face instantly perks up with interest as he watches Cas proceed to unbutton his pants, shimmying out of them and sitting criss-cross in front of Dean in his boxers.

Dean has the gall to laugh, “What’re you doing?”

Cas ignores this and crawls across the comforter to Dean, who’s skin is still hot with his anger. He’s calmed down now, but he’s a big guy, and an outburst like that takes a while to come down from. Cas runs his hand down Dean’s bare chest in a fashion that he hopes is sensual, before reaching the waistline of his pants.

He moves to unbutton them, before Dean slaps his hand away, a look of horror plastered on his face. “Cas what the hell are you doing?” he demands, any trace of anger or amusement now absent on his creased expression.

Cas leans back a little, biting his lip nervously. He’d told Dean he was asexual right off the bat, about two weeks into their relationship. They’ve been together for around a year, and Dean has never once pressured Cas into doing anything remotely sexual. Cas is grateful for that, and for Dean understanding that he’s not aromantic; Dean’s seriously an amazing person. Especially since he’s such a sexual person himself. Dean loves sex. He tends to do it alone now, seeing as Cas isn’t interested, and really can’t even physically try it without trembling like he’s got hypothermia and feeling sick, but Dean has never appeared to mind taking care of his own business without Cas having to participate. Nevertheless, Cas hates when Dean is unhappy. He feels like he’s taken so much and given nothing in return, the least he can do is try. For Dean.

Cas moves his hands down to Dean’s waistline again, fingers slipping into the band of his jeans. Dean’s mouth falls open and his gaze becomes a little hazy and unfocused at the feeling of Castiel’s fingers in his pants. Cas takes this as a good sign, and proceeds to unbutton Dean’s pants.

“W-wait,” Dean says, watching as Cas slides the jeans down his legs, “Why are you doing this?”

Castiel shakes his head once, “Don’t worry about me.” he coos quietly, “I want to make you feel better.”

“Cas,” Dean pants as Cas reaches over and places a hand on Dean’s freckled thigh, “seriously.”

Dean hasn’t asked him to stop, so Castiel continues.He takes the cinched waist of Dean’s boxers in his fingers and pulls those off as well, much to Dean’s astonishment. “Cas,” Dean snaps his fingers, his face completely corkscrewed, “what is going on? You don’t have to-”

“Shhh,” Cas quiets him by placing a chaste kiss on his mouth and glancing down at Dean’s half hard cock, already excited just from Cas’ feather light touch, “I’ll take care of this.”

Tears are building up in his eyes, but Cas fights them back. Bile churns in his throat and his stomach twists in a painful knot, making him grimace at the uncomfortable sensation. He forces a trembling hand out and brushes his fingers against Dean’s erection. The feeling makes him feel so vulnerable, like he’s been stripped nude in front of thousands of people and they’re all filming him flounder about without any direction.

“ _Jesus_ Cas,” Dean grabs his face and pulls his wet gaze away from Dean’s cock, “Look at me, hey. _Stop this._ ”

“I want to make you feel better,” Cas insists in a surprisingly weak and cracked voice, “I owe you this at least-”

“ _Castiel_!” Dean snarls, gripping his face a little harder and forcing his cerulean eyes to meet Dean’s jade ones, “you don’t owe me jack shit. C’mon, lets get your clothes back on. Jesus.”

Dean takes the now weeping mess of his boyfriend to the edge of the bed and helps him redress, pulling his own clothes on as well and ignoring the slowly dwindling ferocity of his erection. He sits Cas on the bed again, putting an arm around his shoulders and letting the crying man lean against him.

“I’m sorry.” Cas sobs, feeling weak. He couldn’t even do this one thing for Dean, after he does so much for him and deals with daily stresses that would knock Cas down constantly. He feels like a pathetic loser, worthless and _broken._

“Castiel no!” Dean gasps, and Cas realizes he’s said that last part out loud, “There’s nothing wrong with you Cas, nothing at all. You’re not broken, fuck Cas, you’re not broken please. Look at me.”

Cas lifts his head and relishes in the gentle way Dean’s calloused fingers brush tears away from his soft face. Dean offers him that weak, slightly damaged smile that Cas finds so damn endearing on a regular basis.

“I love you so much.” Dean tells him, leaning closer so their foreheads are touching and their eyelashes are inches away, “I love you just the way you are, there’s nothing broken in you. This is normal Cas, I promise. There’s nothing wrong with it at all, okay? And you don’t….god you don’t ever owe me anything, ever, alright baby? No matter what. I mean it, if you ever feel like this just talk to me don’t...don’t hurt yourself over it.”

Cas closes the distance and presses his lips against Dean’s, feeling a rush of warmth and comfort surrounding the embrace. The kiss lasts a few moments before he pulls away with a whoosh of breath, sighing, “Dean...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Cas, I’m the one who broke half our shit.”

Cas laughs a little, surprised at this turn of events, “It’s okay.”

“I should work on my anger.”

“You’re gentle with me.” Cas whispers, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

He can feel Dean smile into his hair, “Yeah, but that’s cause I care about you.”

“Flattering.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too Dean.”


End file.
